Sold To The Ruthless Alpha Heir

Delphie POV:

The crystal glass felt cold against my mother's fingers.

I could feel the condensation, the slight tremor running through her hand and into mine.

Around us, the Great Hall of the Orr Pack was a swirl of noise and laughter. Pack members raised their glasses, their voices booming in celebration of the full moon. Luna Rosalind Orr, perched on her raised seat like a vulture on a throne, soaked in their adoration.

My mother, Jacqueline Harrington, and I hid in the most inconspicuous corner of the hall.

She squeezed my hand. Her palm was slick with sweat.

I was thirteen, old enough to understand the looks sent our way. They were like tiny, sharp stones-pity from some, contempt from most. We were a stain on their perfect celebration.

Rosalind's eyes, chips of obsidian, scanned the room. They passed over laughing couples and boisterous warriors, and then they found us. They locked onto my mother.

A slow, cruel smile spread across her painted lips.

She caught the eye of a younger girl, her own blood-cousin, Mina. A flicker of fear crossed Mina's face, but it was quickly replaced by resignation. She nodded.

Mina picked up a glass of dark red juice and started walking.

She was heading for the Luna.

Her path took her right past our corner. Just as she drew level with my mother, Mina's ankle suddenly tilted.

A small gasp escaped her lips, and the glass flew from her hand.

It all happened in slow motion. The arc of the glass, the dark red liquid splashing through the air.

It landed perfectly on the pristine white silk of Rosalind's expensive gown.

A giant, ugly red stain bloomed across the fabric. Like a fresh wound.

The music screeched to a halt.

Silence fell over the hall. Thick and heavy.

A piercing shriek cut through it. Rosalind's.

She suddenly stood up, her fingers trembling as she pointed at my mother.

"Jacqueline Harrington! You! You pushed her!"

My mother's face went white. She dropped my hand and fell to her knees. "Luna, it wasn't me, I swear-I've been standing right here, I never touched her..."

I lurched forward, a protest caught in my throat, but a hand clamped down on my arm. Hard.

My father, Alistair Orr, stood behind me. His grip was like iron.

"Don't move," he whispered, his voice cold as ice. His eyes were fixed on Rosalind, and they held a disturbing hint of approval.

Rosalind glided towards my mother. Her hand swung, and the crack of her palm against my mother's cheek echoed in the silent hall.

She grabbed a fistful of my mother's dark hair, yanking her head back.

"Lick it clean," Rosalind commanded, her voice dripping with venom.

A wave of snickering rippled through the crowd. No one moved to help.

Tears of pure, hot shame burned my eyes. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

My mother trembled on the floor. She lowered her head, her body contorting in humiliation as she actually moved to lick the stain from the hem of the dress.

For a split second, as her head dipped, I saw it. A flash of something in her eyes. Not fear. Not shame. It was cold. Hard. Calculating.

Then it was gone, washed away by a flood of tears.

Rosalind seemed to lose interest. She kicked out, her heel connecting with my mother's shoulder, sending her sprawling.

"Get out," she spat. "Don't dirty my sight."

Alistair pulled me back. He grabbed my mother from the floor like a sack of grain and dragged us both from the hall, the sound of laughter following us out into the cold night.

He didn't say a word until we were back in our damp, cramped room. He didn't even look at my mother, who had collapsed onto the thin mattress.

His cold eyes found me.

"Our Pack is weak," he said, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "I need a powerful ally."

He paused, letting the words hang in the stale air.

"The Blackstone Pack's Alpha heir, Everet Scott. He needs a political match to appease the smaller families under his rule."

He pointed a finger at me. At my face.

"You," he said. "You are the bargaining chip."

The floor fell out from under me. The sting of my mother's humiliation vanished, replaced by the gaping, black abyss of my own future.

I was being sold.

DELPHIE POV:

After Alistair left, slamming the door behind him, my mother slowly pushed herself up.

A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, but her eyes were terrifyingly calm.

Tears streamed down my face as I fumbled with our meager first-aid kit. My hands shook as I dabbed a cloth at the cut on her lip.

"Mama, we have to run," I choked out, the words tasting like ash.

She caught my wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong, steady. "Run? Run where, Delphie? To become Rogues for any wolf to hunt and kill?"

Her voice was quiet, but it held the weight of a command. "Remember this. Tears are the most useless thing a weak person can possess."

She pushed a small cloth bundle into my hands. "This is for you. Tonight, you have a 'task' to complete. In the eastern part of the Black Forest."

I unwrapped it. Inside was a set of plain, grey clothes, easy to move in, and a small vial of dark liquid. A potion to mask my scent.

"Alistair wants to make a deal," she said, her eyes glinting with a light I didn't recognize. "But an opportunity to get close to Everet Scott must be one we create ourselves."

I stared at her, my mind reeling. Why would she want me to get closer to the man who was about to buy me?

"Just do as I say," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. "It's our only way out."

That night, I did as she told me.

I rubbed the oily potion over my skin, the herbal scent clinging to me. I changed into the grey clothes and slipped out of our room like a ghost. The Pack's outer patrols were lazy, complacent.

I knew the forest better than any of them. Years of hiding from bullies had made it my sanctuary.

I reached the spot my mother had described on a hand-drawn map. The entrance to a narrow canyon, shadowed by towering pines. I hid behind a large boulder, just as she'd instructed.

It wasn't long before I heard it.

The frantic sound of running feet, the clash of steel, the guttural snarl of wolves.

I peered around the edge of the rock.

A tall, powerful figure was fighting off five, maybe six, vicious-looking Rogues. He moved with a deadly grace, each strike of the silver blade in his hand precise and fatal.

Even with his back to me, I knew. It was Everet Scott.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

He was good, but he was outnumbered. A deep gash on his left arm bled freely, staining his dark shirt. His movements were starting to slow.

The Rogues sensed it. They pressed their attack, and one lunged, claws extended, aiming for his throat.

Everet's grey eyes, which I could now see, flashed with lethal intent. He was preparing to trade a serious injury for a kill.

In that split second, I didn't think. I acted.

I grabbed a fist-sized rock from the ground. With all my strength, I hurled it, not at the Rogues, but at a large, papery object hanging from a dead tree branch high above them.

A hornet's nest.

The rock hit its mark. The nest tore open, and an angry, buzzing cloud erupted from within.

The Rogues froze, their attack forgotten. A moment later, they were screaming, swatting at the swarm that engulfed them.

Their formation shattered.

Everet seized the opportunity. He burst through their broken line, putting distance between himself and the chaos.

His eyes scanned the area and landed on me, a small figure huddled behind a rock. My headscarf covered most of my face, but he saw my eyes.

He couldn't smell me. The potion was working. To him, I was just a human girl who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.

The screams of the Rogues faded as they fled into the forest. Everet leaned against a tree, breathing heavily. The wound on his arm dripped blood onto the forest floor.

I pushed myself up from behind the boulder. My heart was a frantic drum, but my feet were steady.

This was my mother's plan. I walked towards the most dangerous man I had ever seen.

DELPHIE POV:

Everet Scott watched me approach, his body tense.

Even injured, the air around him crackled with power. The raw pressure of an Alpha. It made the hairs on my arms stand up.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice a low, rough rasp.

I didn't answer. I knelt and tore a strip of cloth from the hem of my own worn tunic. It was the cleanest part.

I walked right up to him, ignoring the dangerous energy rolling off him in waves, and held up the makeshift bandage. I gestured to his bleeding arm.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. He wasn't used to people not fearing him.

He didn't pull away. He watched me, his grey eyes narrowed, trying to figure me out.

I gently cleaned the dirt from around the gash. My touch was light, focused.

As my fingertips brushed against his skin, a jolt, hot and sharp like a spark of lightning, shot up my arm.

I flinched back, a gasp escaping my lips. It felt like I'd been burned.

At the same instant, Everet's breath hitched. His pupils dilated, turning his grey eyes almost black. A low, guttural sound rumbled in his chest.

Deep in my mind, a word echoed, a possessive, primal growl that wasn't my own.

Mine!

I shook my head, convinced I was imagining things. The stress, the fear. I forced my trembling hands to finish their work, tying a neat, tight knot to staunch the bleeding.

He stared at me, his gaze intense, searching.

"What's your name?" he asked again. His voice was softer now, laced with a strange urgency.

I shook my head and turned to leave. My mother's instructions were clear: make an impression, then disappear.

His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. "I owe you. Tell me your name. I will repay you."

The touch sent another one of those strange, hot sparks through me.

In the distance, a voice called his name. His Beta. His men were coming.

He was distracted for only a second, but it was enough. I wrenched my arm free and melted back into the shadows of the forest.

I ran until my lungs burned, not stopping until I reached the edge of the Orr Pack's territory. The sky was beginning to pale with the first light of dawn.

I had just stepped inside my room when the door crashed open.

Alistair stood there, his face a mask of fury.

The slap sent me sprawling to the floor. "You dare stay out all night!" he roared.

Pain exploded in my side as his boot connected with my ribs.

My mother screamed my name and threw herself over me, trying to shield my body with her own.

Alistair kicked her away. She hit the wall with a sickening thud and slid to the floor, a cough rattling in her chest. Blood flecked her lips. This was no act.

"And you, you worthless bitch, you encouraged this!" he snarled, turning his rage on her.

"No!" I scrambled forward, grabbing his leg. "Don't hurt her! It was my fault! I went out alone!"

My confession stopped him. He looked down at me, then at my mother's still form, his face filled with disgust. He stormed out, leaving us in the wreckage.

I crawled to my mother's side. Her breathing was shallow, her skin clammy and cold.

This wasn't part of the plan.

She was dying. For me.

A wave of hatred, so pure and strong it made me dizzy, washed over me. My weakness had done this.

Miles away, in the Black Forest, a Beta approached his Alpha.

"Sir," he said, holding up a small, blood-stained piece of cloth. "We have a lead. The girl... we think she's from the Orr Pack."